Though I keep nothing that was yours
and think our years a big mistake,
yet I wonder where you open doors
and ponder on what paths you take;
for though I know you love me not,
since what true love forsakes love true,
but still, I gave you all you got,
fulfilled those inlaid fantasies for you;
oh, I do love where still I hate;
and as this wintering festival arrives,
when I am filled up, and the hour grows late,
I think on what has been midwived:
a herald from a docked longship appears
to sing a jewelled tree born out of tears.
..
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Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
